Chasing Fire
by addielady
Summary: Nimroel was orphaned at a young age, rescued by Gandalf, and raised by a hobbit. She lives in peace in the Shire until Gandalf offers her the opportunity to join him and thirteen dwarves in the adventure of the lifetime. However, the world outside the Shire and the dwarves may be very different from what she expected. [kili/OC]
1. Prologue

**Hi everyone! Addie here. So this is my first Hobbit fanfic. I don't claim to be an expert on Middle Earth so feel free to comment anything that doesn't fit with Tolkien's world. I am a huge fan of the book and the movies so I just couldn't resist writing my own fanfic. I hope you guys enjoy it! Of course I own none of the characters except for Nimroel and Uncle Eddy. Please RxR and thanks for reading:)**

Prologue

The attack had come and gone before Gandalf could round the bend in the path. He saw claw marks in the dirt from several enormous creatures and heard the receding howls of the animals echoing throughout the chilly night air. Finally rounding the bend, anticipation locked in his chest, he came upon the scene of the attack. The smell of blood perfumed the air like springtime flowers and not a sound could be heard. Moving cautiously in the darkness, he followed the massive paw prints off the path and towards a large tree. Casting a light with his staff, his eyes fell upon a gruesome scene.

A man lay face down on the ground, blood soaking his back where a large animal had raked their claws along his skin. Blood still ran in thick, crimson rivers across his body to pool on the ground beside him and stick in his hair. Although much of his garb was destroyed, it was still evident to Gandalf that he was dressed in fine riding gear although his steed appeared to have bolted.

Grimacing, he stepped around the body and continued to follow the paw prints around the tree. However, the sight he came upon was worse than the one before. A woman sat huddled against the trunk, her pale blond hair dyed red with blood. An open wound shaped suspiciously like a bite mark was gushing with blood at such a rate that Gandalf wondered how she still had any to spare. Stepping closer, he saw with a start that the woman was very much alive.

Rushing to her side, he became aware of two things at once. Firstly, this in fact was no woman but an elf—a high elf based on her clothing and her high cheekbones and severely arched brows. Secondly, she was holding a child. Gandalf stared with sadness as the child rolled over inside its silver wrappings, unaware that its mother was dying

A small sigh of unhappiness escaped Gandalf's lips as he reached for the babe. However, a frail hand closed around his wrist before he could take the child.

"Nimroel," the mother panted, clearly close to her end. "Her name is Nimroel." Gandalf took the elf woman's hand between his own and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"I will take her somewhere safe, do not fear," he murmured soothingly. The woman's shoulders slumped in relief, a thin layer of perspiration covering her face as she struggled to hold on. With a slight jerking motion, she pulled a small silver ring with a pearl from her finger and dropped in into Gandalf outstretched hand.

"Do not let her forget us," she mumbled, the light beginning to fade from her silver eyes. One last, rasping breath came and then she was gone, her head rocking back and her arms falling limply from her child's side to the ground.

Taking the babe and the ring, Gandalf got to his feet slowly, his heard heavy. _Where should I take the child_? Certainly not to Gondor or Rohan. Gandalf did not trust many of the men that inhabited those cities. However, he could not take her to Mirkwood or Rivendell. She was half human and would not be accepted fully by the elves. Suddenly an image of wide rolling hills and little round doors filled his mind. _Yes, she will be safe there. I will take her to the Shire._


	2. Chapter 1: The Offer

**So the story begins... Of course I don't own anything! Thanks for reading and feel free to leave a review:)**

Chapter 1: The Offer

Nimroel flew down the road, her long, caramel colored curls flying in the wind behind her as her feet pounded down the dirt road. She ignored the exasperated groans of her neighbors as she rounded another bend, dodging Viola Burrows and her donkey. She also ignored the angry shout from Timothy Chubbs as she leapt over his wheelbarrow, flinging dirt onto his freshly dug up carrots.

"You will never amount to anything, Nimroel Took!" He shouted after her, shaking a fat, hairy fist in her direction but smiling in spite of himself. However the girl ran on, her heart pounding away in her chest and her lungs burning in need of air.

_He's here_ Nimroel thought, her mind bursting with the news. She had received word almost moments before from her Uncle Edward (Eddy to her) Took that Gandalf had been spotted crossing the Brandywine only a day ago which meant that he should be arriving in Hobbiton shortly. Eddy had barely finished talking when she had set out in search of him, letting her tanned legs carry her out on a wild chase. She had missed her old mentor greatly and could feel the presence of the silver ring on her left hand as she thought of him. _It's been to long old friend_.

Rounding another corner at top speed, her eyes finally fell upon a welcome sight. Off in the distance she could see a horse prancing down the road, a gray cloaked figure upon its back.

"Gandalf!" She cried shrilly, waving her arms madly and running all the while. Several faces popped up from their gardens as Nimroel flew past but the girl was gone before she could see any of them. Her old mentor dismounted and awaited her with open arms, a smile visible on his worn and lined face. Finally reaching him, she threw herself into his embrace, wrapping her arms around his frail, old body in a deadly tight hug.

"My dear, Nimroel. It is so good to see you," he chimed, patting her on the back. Pulling back, the girl beamed up at him, her chest rising and falling quickly as she tried to get in enough air and her cheeks pink from the effort.

"I've missed you Gandalf," she said, her voice wavering a little. And it was true. It had been nearly fifteen years since he had last come to visit her although he seemed no older or worn than the last time she saw him.

"I see you have not changed much, still running around like a child," he said, casting a weary gray eye over her.

"I am not nearly a child now, I turned thirty-three just two weeks ago," she said, crossing her arms and rolling her eyes at him. Gandalf's shoulders shoot with suppressed amusement as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and began to lead her into the city.

"Well perhaps you should act more like it." His tone was light but she could hear his advice underneath his words. "I am sure your neighbors do not appreciate a young woman such as yourself running about all day." At this Nimroel's face turned down in a small frown, her golden eyes becoming stormy for a moment.

"Hobbits are so stiff, Gandalf. It's a wonder they can even bend over to pick the potatoes from their garden," she sniffed, glancing at one of her neighbors as he pulled a string of potatoes from the ground.

"You do not like them anymore? Last I was here you were quite enchanted by them."

"Oh no, I like them fine," she replied, her sour tone gone all at once. "It's just that I think they're having a bad influence on me. See? I've stopped growing." Nimroel came to a halt and threw her arms wide as if to say _look for yourself_. Gandalf chuckled.

"It is odd, your parents were quite tall," he said, his mind recalling the thick, lanky form of her father as he lay on the ground.

"I know, I know. It's the hobbits I am telling you," she said, skipping out in front of him and taking the lead. "I think their rich diet is stunting my growth." Nimroel patted her stomach appreciatively.

"Have you been reading the scrolls I sent you?" Gandalf asked, attempting to get down to business.

"Yes, of course," Nimroel answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I especially like the stories about the Dwarves, although the Elven tales were very interesting too." Gandalf chucked to himself, thinking how ironic it was that she like the story about dwarves.

"So what brings you back to Hobbiton? It has been ever so long since you last visited," she said, her voice accusing but light.

"All in good time, my dear. First I would like a cup of tea and a word with your good Uncle Edward."

Nimroel took the reins of Gandalf's horse and led the massive creature into the barn while the wizened old man scrambled up the cobblestone walk and knocked on the little round door to her home with his long staff. Almost as if the hobbit had been waiting for a knock, the door flew open immediately and Gandalf was greeted warmly by Uncle Edward. Nimroel entered the house after her old mentor, a white smile stretched broadly across her face.

"Gandalf, Gandalf," the gray haired hobbit chattered pleasantly. "So good to see you. Nimroel here has been pinning away to see you. I am afraid you do not visit often enough." He smiled at his daughter, his chocolate eyes warm with pride.

"It is good to see you to, Edward," Gandalf replied, stooping so that he could rest a hand on the hobbit's shoulder. "Do you think I could ask of you a cup of chamomile tea? I've had a very long and tiresome journey."

"Oh do tell us about it," Nimroel said eagerly, taking Gandalf's hand and leading him through the maze of short tunnels into the kitchen. _It's so good he's back_ she thought contently. _There is so much to ask him and to talk with him about_. The old wizard smiled as he took a seat on a kitchen stool.

"Nimroel, would you mind running off to collect all the scrolls I sent you? I am afraid I will have to return them," he said. The young woman frowned.

"But I want to hear about your trip," she whined.

"All in good time. But please, collect your things first," he said, a slight undertone of command in his voice. Rolling her eyes, she made her way into her room and began to collect all of the scrolls.

Gandalf sent her things to read about once a year, sometimes twice but very rarely. They were always stories or records or historical accounts of far off places and different races. Sometimes he sent maps and even more occasionally instruction manuals that taught her how to start a fire or make and shoot a bow and arrow (both of which she had gotten very good at). When at last she had collected all of her papers, she placed them in a thin leather bag and made her way back to the kitchen, her feet falling softly on the carpeted floors. She could hear Eddy and Gandalf's voice echoing down the halls as she approached. As her curiosity got the better of her, Nimroel stopped to listen to their conversation.

"So you are telling me, Gandalf," Eddy began, his voice colored with worry, "that all thirteen of them are coming to Bag End this very night?"

"Yes I am afraid so."

"But what in the heavens does this have to do with my dear Nimroel? She's just a girl, Gandalf." Nimroel felt her heart swell as she heard the fondness in her father's voice.

"Nimroel is a girl destined for great things. Why do you think I send her those things to read? I am trying to prepare her for what is coming." She felt her curiosity spike at Gandalf's words. _What things was he preparing her for?_

"That is all good and fine but why are you telling me this?" Uncle Eddy sounded extremely disgruntled. This conversation was clearly not common talk with hobbits.

"I come to ask you simply if she is ready."

"Ready for what? For heaven's sakes, Gandalf, you have hardly explained anything."

"Is she ready for an adventure," the old man replied calmly. There was a pause before Eddy answered and Nimroel could hear her heart beating in her chest.

"I do not know much of the world outside of the Shire though Nimroel has attempted to describe it to me. I also do not know what you are going to ask of my daughter, but I do know that she does not belong here." His voice was quiet and resigned as he spoke. "She is not made for the Shire and I suppose I would not be able to keep her here forever, though it hurts me to let her go so soon." Nimroel felt her golden eyes become thick with tears and she wiped them away quickly. Thinking that she had been spying long enough, she coughed loudly and walked into the kitchen which was silent and dreary.

"Here they are, Gandalf," Nimroel said gaily, holding up the leather bag of scrolls. From the amused glint in his gray eyes she realized that he knew she had been listening to their conversation.

"Thank you. And now to business." His tone became simple and matter of fact. "I have a proposition for you, Nimroel." Her eyes widened and she slowly took a seat, her eyes never leaving Gandalf's face.

"Tonight a company of thirteen dwarves is going to gather at Bag End in preparation for an Adventure. An Adventure," he paused, closing his eyes, "that I desire you to take part in." Nimroel gasped softly.

"Of course, Gandalf. Of course I want to go on an adventure with you!" She practically squealed, her voice shrill with excitement. The old wizard looked anything but pleased.

"You understand that this will be dangerous. You could die or be forced to watch as your companions die. You will be tested, Nimroel, and none of them will be easy." She felt her heart pounding in her chest as his warning echoed around in her head. _Do I want this? _Fear griped her for a moment and then she remembered all of the stories she had read. Memories of long nights were she could not fall asleep because she was dreaming of far off places filled her mind. Her whole life she had wanted to leave the Shire and see what the world had to offer her. _I know I am not destined to live here my whole life_ she thought, casting her eyes around the small hobbit kitchen. _I am the daughter of an elf and a man, not of a hobbit._ Still, doubt nagged at her mind. Gandalf's words to Eddy sprung up in her mind: _why do you think I send her those things to read_. She had been bred for this adventure and she knew it.

"I accept your adventure and all the dangers that come with it," she said solemnly, staring Gandalf in the eye. She thought for a moment she saw a flash of approval in his gray eyes.

"Good, good. You must start packing then, my dear. I must go pay a visit to my friend Mr. Bilbo Baggins. You would do well to arrive at Bag End at sundown with all of your things," he said merrily getting to his feet and winding his way through the maze of hobbit hall towards the door.

"I will see you at Bag End, Gandalf," Nimroel replied, waving to the receding back of the gray cloaked wizard. She shut the door and turned around to lean on it.

_I'm going on an adventure._ The words sent a chill down her spine whether from fear or excitement she didn't know. Remembering she needed to pack, Nimroel rushed to her room. _I need to pack minimally_ she reminded herself as she sorted through her dresser drawers. After much deciding and contemplating, she decided on three pairs of thick wool socks, three pairs of black leather tights (she might be riding a horse and wool tights just wouldn't do), a long white tunic and a similarly cut blue one, a leather belt Eddy had given her on her thirteen birthday, he wool cloak, and a sturdy pair of boots. At the last minute she grabbed her notebook with notes she had taken from all of Gandalf's scrolls and stuffed it in her already bulging bag.

Glancing out her window, Nimroel realized with a start that it was almost sundown. Shouldering her bag she made her way to the kitchen where she had last seen her Uncle Eddy.

He sat at the kitchen table clutching a cold cup of tea in his hands and staring vacantly at the wall. Two parcels sat on the table in front of him and he gave a small jump as Nimroel plopped down into the seat next to him.

"Nimroel," he began, his voice hoarse with worry. "Before you say anything," he stated because she had begun to open her mouth, "let me say this. I am happy for you. You are not meant for hobbit life and it would be selfish of me to keep you here." His voice was dull as if he had recited it several times in his head already. "I trust Gandalf and I do believe that you are ready for a life outside of the one I could give you when Gandalf brought you here so long ago." Nimroel felt her golden eyes filling with tears as he spoke. "I have no advice for you, but I do have these. I hope you think of me when you use them."

Unable to say anything Nimroel turned to the packages and opened them. The first was a leather water skin with a silver cap. Thanking him softly, Nimroel moved on to the second and much larger package. Pulling at the silver wrappings, she let out a small gasp of wonder as her eyes beheld a beautiful sight.

A large bow and a quiver full of arrows lay on the table in front of her but they were far more majestic than the set she had made for herself. The bow was massive, made from polished and sturdy wood and strung by some unknown clear substance. Nimroel stroked the carvings of flowers that lines the side. Similar carvings ringed the quiver which was full of arrows. Pulling one out she could see the steel tips and carefully shaped red feathers.

"It's beautiful," she breathed, her eyes overflowing with tears of thankfulness.

"There's no need for tears, darling," he said gently. "Gandalf gave them to me long ago. Elf made they are. I want you to be able to protect yourself on the road." Before he could say another word Nimroel had swept him up into a hug. Although she was only five-five, she still towered a good foot and half taller than him.

"Thank you," she murmured, sorrow choking her voice. _Goodbye is always the hardest_. Pulling away she hastily wiped the tears from her eyes.

"Well I best be going."

"Yes, you have an adventure to be had." Smiling at her Uncle who had been a father to her for her whole life, Nimroel gave him one last wave before setting out for Bag End, ready to begin the new chapter of her life.


	3. Chapter 2: The Company

**Hi readers! Addie here (no duh). So unfortunately I go out of town for three days? Maybe four not certain starting this afternoon. I will not have a computer with me so I will be unable to update and I'm really sorry! That's why I rushed to post two chapters and a prologue so quickly! Special thanks to OceanAmber for the review, makes me feel all warm and bubbly inside:) Please RxR and of course I don't own anything! **

Chapter 2: The Company

Nimroel walked with a certain spring in her step as she made her way through Hobbiton to Bag End that night. _I'm finally doing it—finally leaving the Shire_. Her mind filled with the stories she had read about the Misty Mountains and Mirkwood Forest, wondering if her adventure would take her to those places. From a young age Nimroel had always dreamed of setting off to see the world, and now it was if some other power had answered her prayers and sent her thirteen dwarves to travel Middle Earth with.

As her mind crossed the topic of dwarves, her train of thought switched from that of travel to her fellow companions. She had never met a dwarf and had only seen one or two rough sketches of one from her readings. They were around her height she realized unhappily with thick beards and strong limbs. They moved with wide, stomping gaits and spoke in deep growling tones according to her scrolls. She knew from stories that they were masters of the forge and often good story tellers, although she personally thought this hard to believe. Nimroel couldn't help but wonder if they would like her, seeing as she was an odd mix of human, elf, and hobbit. She had a strange sense of foreboding that they would not appreciate her lineage the way she did.

Taking a left around the Gamgee's hobbit hole, Bag End came into view. The sun was setting a violent red color as she made her way through the gate and up the cobbled pathway to knock on the little round door. As she waited, she glanced down to find that a small rune had been carved onto the wooden door. _Bilbo is not going to like that_ she thought. _He had his door painted just three weeks ago_. She remembered because she had accidently spilled a can of green paint when she had come to ask to borrow some sugar for a pie she and Eddy were making.

Her stream of memories was cut short as the door swung open, revealing Bilbo Baggins in his usual patchwork robe. He cast an uncertain eye over the clothes she was wearing before flashing her a smile.

"Hello, Bilbo," she greeted warmly, her face flushed with excitement. "Do you mind if I come in?"

"Oh, no, no. Not at all. Right this way, Nimroel," he said, pointing her down the hall. She could feel him inspecting her traveling gear and all of her packs with curiosity as she hung her things from the hooks on the wall (as an respectable hobbit would know to do). Bilbo escorted her down the hall and into the kitchen where it was obvious by the still steaming fish he had been about to sit down to dinner. She was fortunate that she and Bilbo got on very well; he often invited her over on Sundays for tea and to listen to her stories from Gandalf's scrolls.

"Oh do forgive me, I've interrupted your dinner," she said, her face flushing with embarrassment. _I may be part man part elf_, she mused_, but I was raised by a hobbit and I surely have his manners_.

"Not a problem. It's still hot, see? Can I get you something?" He asked generously, although it was quite apparent that he wanted nothing more than to sit down and eat his dinner.

"No, I ate at Uncle Eddy's before I came," she said with a smiling, sitting down at the end of the table.

"About that," Bilbo asked, picking up his fork and knife and beginning to cut into his meal, "why exactly did you come? Not that I don't enjoy your presence, Nimroel, but it was not exactly expected tonight."

However before she could even open her mouth there came a great booming knock at the door. Rolling his eyes unhappily Bilbo laid his napkin on the table beside his plate and got to his feet.

"If you'll excuse me." The hobbit waddled off silently, agitation clearly written all over his face. _Poor man just wants to eat his dinner_. She heard the door open and a deep, growling voice say:

"Dwalin, at your service." She heard a very flustered Bilbo give a shaky greeting in return.

"No. Which way, laddie? Is it down here?" The deep booming voice of Dwalin rang through the small hobbit tunnels, his loud footsteps coming closer. Nimroel sat up straighter, anxious to see what this dwarf looked like.

"I-is what down where?" Bilbo stuttered, his voice barely audible over a series of bangs that sounded like several packages and long metal poles being dropped onto the floor in a very un-hobbitish way.

"Supper. He said there'd be food, and lots of it." The footsteps came closer until they were just around the corner.

"H-He said? Who said?" Bilbo stuttered, and then the pair of feet rounded the corner.

Frightening was the first word that came to mind when Nimroel laid eyes on the dwarf. The top of his head was bald and covered in tattoos while it seemed that the lower half of his head was a confusing mess of tangled black hair and beard. His was wide set and covered in furs and leather armor; his boots were so big they could be used for a flower vase.

"Who's this?" the dwarf she assumed was named Dwalin grunted at her as he sat in front of Bilbo's dinner and began helping himself.

"What? Oh, uh, Nimroel," Bilbo squeaked, clearly flustered. Dwalin glared at her as he ripped the head from the fish with his teeth.

"And what," he asked menacingly, "are you doing at our meeting lassie?" Nimroel felt her mind reeling. His disgusting appearance she had expected, but she had not prepared herself for such a intimidating attitude.

"I was invited," she murmured weakly, "by Gandalf." It was not like her to stand up to anyone and so the response came out barely above a whisper. However, the dwarf had clearly lost interest in her and turned back to Bilbo.

"Very good, this. Any more?" Bilbo's mouth fell open and Nimroel felt her heart pang with sympathy. Getting to her feet she rushed to his side.

"I'll handle the food," she said gently. The hobbit cast her a grateful look as the door knocked again and he rushed to answer it. Glancing around her, she saw a plate biscuits a hurriedly set them in front of the dwarf. He set to stuffing his face without thanking her and she couldn't help but frown at his poor manners. Rushing into the pantry, she began pulling meats and cheeses and crackers. Arranging them as quickly as she could on a wooden platter, she rushed back to the kitchen dining room only to see another, shorter, white bearded dwarf clash heads with Dwalin. Bilbo stood seething in the corner of his own kitchen.

"Uh, excuse me; sorry, I hate to interrupt, ah, but the thing is, I'm not entirely sure you're in the right house," Bilbo stuttered, however, to no avail. The dwarves ignored him completely as Nimroel se the platter down in front of them.

"Thank you, my dear," the white haired dwarf said cheerfully and Nimroel immediately knew she like him better than Dwalin. "I'm Balin, at your service." The dwarf gave a small bow before sitting down to eat his share of the platter.

"Nimroel, at yours," she said with a curtsy and a small giggle. There came another knock at the door and she frowned to herself, trying to remember how many dwarves Gandalf had said were coming. _Twelve? Thirteen?_ Recognizing the rate with which Dwalin and Balin were inhaling their food, Nimroel quickly realized she was going to need more food.

Rushing around the corner, Nimroel slammed face first into a dark haired you dwarf.

"Woah, watch it," he laughed, stumbling backwards into the arms of another young blond dwarf.

"Oh do excuse me, I'm so sorry," she said, her face burning red. The dark haired dwarf glanced up at her as she spoke, his previous laughter dying in his mouth as his eyes scanned her face and then her body. Within a second his eyes had turned from warm to cold and he and his brother stalked past her without another word.

Uncertain as to what she could have done to upset them so, Nimroel decided to worry about the matter later. _You have four hungry dwarves to feed_ she reminded herself forcing her feet to move once more in the direction of the pantry. She began making trips to the pantry, returning with plates laden with copious amounts of food and then running back to the pantry with empty platters and goblets in hand. It seemed to her that each time she reappeared in the kitchen more dwarves were seated around the table, each coming in a different shape and size and with a different color beard. None of them spoke to her except for one smaller dwarf named Bofur who introduced himself as she arrived with a wheel of cheese. She was also aware of several glares and did her best to get in and out of the kitchen without attracting too much attention.

It was on her return to the pantry for what felt like the hundredth time when she saw Gandalf enter through the door. The old wizard had to duck to fit inside, but he did not seemed bothered by it and on the contrary seemed to be in a very good mood.

"Gandalf," she breathed out with a sigh of relief, setting the platters down in the hall against her better judgment and rushing to give him a hug. It was nice to see a familiar face in all the hullabaloo happening at Bag End.

" Hello, my dear. So glad you could make it," he said warmly. He set off down the corridor with Nimroel trailing behind him less eager than before.

"What do you think of our guests?" he asked, turning right and drawing ever closer to the ruckus coming from the dining room.

"Oh I like them fine, though I don't believe they would say the same thing about me," she said, not trying to hide her offense. Gandalf glanced over his shoulder at her and she thought she might see sympathy in his eyes before he ducked into the dining room.

They arrived just as the dwarves raised their mugs in unison, gulping down the ale sloppily. Nimroel watched in fascination as they downed their drinks and slammed their mugs on the table causing Bilbo to flinch. Noticing Bilbo's flustered look, Gandalf chuckled darkly.

"My dear Bilbo, what on earth is the matter?" He asked mischievously.

"What's the matter? I'm surrounded by dwarves. What are they doing here?" The distress on his face was quite evident.

"Oh, they're quite a merry gathering, once you get used to them."

Much to Bilbo's anguish the dwarves chose that moment to start singing. Their voices were deep and raspy but had a soothing sound when combined together. Nimroel tucked herself in a corner, watching as they set up a sort of train, tossing plates and bowls and silverware from dwarf to dwarf into the kitchen. She heard Bilbo in the background complaining about doilies, but she ignored him, instead fascinated by the quick, deft movements of the dwarves. The moved effortlessly and had superb reaction times—two things not mention in her books.

And then suddenly, much to her disappointment, the song was over and the dishes lay in a clean stack in the kitchen and three loud, penetrating knocks sounded at the door. Silence fell over the crowd at once and uneasiness settled in as Gandalf murmured:

"He is here." The dwarves surged forward and Nimroel found herself at the back and the pack alongside Bilbo. Resting her hand on his shoulder for one moment she gave him a reassuring squeeze; they needed to stick together through this.

The young, dark hair dwarf that Nimroel had later learned was named Kili opened the door, his face bright with excitement. Another dwarf stood outside the door, but one taller and more regal than any Nimroel had seen all night. He had long, dark hair that fell in waves down his back and a short, well groomed beard. He wore a blue coat with thick fur and his boots where metal and of fine detail. Without knowing how she knew it, Nimroel realized this dwarf was in charge of their adventure.

"Gandalf. I thought you said this place would be easy to find. I lost my way, twice. Wouldn't have found it at all had it not been for that mark on the door," he said grumpily, stepping over the threshold. Nimroel found herself frowning. His attitude reminded her of Dwalin's.

"Mark? There's no mark on that door. It was painted a week ago!" Bilbo chimed furiously, looking from Gandalf to the newcomer.

"There is a mark; I put it there myself. Bilbo Baggins, allow me to introduce the leader of our company, Thorin Oakenshield." The leader did not smile or nod his head at this introduction; instead he rounded his head on the already extremely flustered Bilbo.

"So, this is the Hobbit. Tell me, Mr. Baggins, have you done much fighting?"

"Pardon me?" Bilbo asked, confused.

"Axe or sword? What's your weapon of choice?" Nimroel had a nauseous feeling growing in her stomach as the conversation continued.

"Well, I have some skill at Conkers, if you must know, but I fail to see why that's relevant."

"Thought as much. He looks more like a grocer than a burglar," Thorin mused cruelly, beginning to make his way through the crowd. The dwarves parted for him as he began to move into the hall, however he stopped quite abruptly in front of Nimroel, a frown creasing his regal face. Turning to face her slowly, she saw hat burning in his eyes and not for the first time she wondered what she had done.

"What is this doing here?" Thorin demanded of Gandalf, practically spitting the words at her.

"I invited her," the wizard replied coolly. "She is not what you think she is, Thorin." The leader's face grew dark with anger.

"Do not tease me Gandalf, I know Elven filth when I see it." And then turning on his heels, he marched down the hallway as if nothing had happened, leaving Nimroel abashed and utterly confused.


	4. Chapter 3: The Leader

**I'M BACK! Vacation was great but I'm glad I could return to you guys. While I was away, thank you SO much for all my favorites and follows and reviews. Your support keeps me going and I just want you to understand how much it means to me. Moving forward, this is chapter three. Please don't hate me when you read this, I rushed to write this for you so forgive me typos but feel free to let me know when you see some! Also, this chapter is longer than the others and I apologize, but I couldn't find a good stopping point. I hope you like the character development, I'm working hard on Nimroel since she's my baby. And finally, I own none of these characters except for the OC's. Feel free to review and thanks for reading!**

Chapter 3: The Leader

Nimroel stood stunned in the hallway as the rest of the dwarves filed down the hall after Thorin. Their footsteps fell like a chorus of drums on her ears, banging and clashing and driving out all thoughts except for one. _Elven filth. He called me filth. _The two word phrase danced around her mind as she stood rooted to the spot.

Never before in all of her life had she been treated that way because of her family. The hobbits were very excepting people and, in fact, many of the children found her pointy ears fascinating. All her life she had been proud of her lineage, as strange as it was, and now she was being treated like dirt because of her parentage. _Surely he can see that I am not truly an elf? I am man too._ But as she thought about it, uneasiness settled over her. At first glance, anyone who was not closely acquainted with an elf would mistake her for one. However, Nimroel knew her body well enough to know which traits she had gotten from her mother and which from her father.

Nimroel was dainty and slim, much as the elves were, with curves she had surely received from her father. Her long, narrow face sat upon a skinny neck and her hands and feet were thin and graceful. Gandalf had once explained to her the descriptions of her parents so that she might picture them in her mind, and she had long ago decided her face was the exact mix of her mother and father. Her mother, he said, had thin, silver eyes while her father bore round, chocolate ones leaving Nimroel with almond shaped, golden eyes. She had full, but pale, rosy lips and a short flat nose that perfectly divided the light splatter of freckles on her cheeks. Her hair, much like her eyes, was a mix. It fell in long, thick curls down her back, the color of Uncle Eddy's famous caramel. But it was her long pointed ears and way of moving that made her look like she was floating that caused most people to think she was an elf. Gandalf had explained that because elves were the stronger of the two races, she had received more of her mother's traits than her fathers.

Frowning to herself, Nimroel sighed and slowly followed the company down the empty hall, noticing with disgust how her footsteps were silent on the carpet. As she drew closer she heard a great cry go up from the kitchen as the dwarves broken into an argument. Glancing out of the window she realized with a shock that she must have been standing alone in the hallway for a very long time.

Peeking her head around the doorway, she saw with relief that Gandalf was standing right on the other side. Sliding into the room next to him, she cowered in the corner as Thorin called for silence and began to speak.

"If we have read these signs, do you not thinkiothers will have read them too? Rumours have begun to spread. The dragon Smaug..." Nimroel heard Thorin's deep, powerful voice continue speaking, but her mind had stopped following his words. _The dragon Smaug. _Fear unlike anything she had ever felt before clutched at her heart. _This journey involves a dragon, and I have agreed to go. I have signed my death certificate_ she thought dully. Swaying in alarm, Nimroel reached out to grab Gandalf's staff for support.

"Nimroel? Are you quite alright my dear?" Gandalf whispered as Thorin finished his monologue and all the dwarves leapt to their feet cheering. Coldness seemed to spread through her and it was all she could do to shake her head no.

"There's a dragon?" She saw Gandalf's eyes soften as Nimroel stuttered out these few feeble words and he patted the white hand on his staff.

"Do not worry; you will not have to face him. I only wish for you to accompany them on their journey," he said smiling warmly. Nimroel felt herself nodding and she slowly let go of his staff and leaned against the wall, the coldness slowly receding but leaving her knees knocking and her skin taught with goose bumps. Turning back to the conversation, something the long, white bearded dwarf whose name was Balin was saying seemed to interest Gandalf.

"That, my dear Balin, is not entirely true," he said, stepping forward and pulling something out of his pocket. There was a flash of silver and Nimroel slowly registered that Gandalf was holding a key. The old wizard stepped forward and leaned across several gaping dwarves to hand the key to Thorin, who looked equally as shocked. _Don't even know there is a back door? It's your home_ Nimroel though snidely, but of course she remained silent—she never spoke out against anyone.

"How came you by this?" Thorin demanded as he stared at the key in his hands.

"It was given to me by your father, by Thrain, for safekeeping. It is yours now." The conversation continued on, but Nimroel fell out of it again as she was attempting to figure out what was happening; she had missed much of the conversation.

The dwarves had come here, to Bilbo Baggins' house to recruit him for a journey across Middle Earth to a mountain with a dragon. _What mountain? And why? _None of their actions made sense to the girl, however there was an even more important question bouncing around her mind. _Why am I going on this journey? I have nothing to offer these people_. The thought, although painful to admit was the truth and because of it Nimroel had failed to come up with a reason for why Gandalf wished for her to accompany him to this mountain-with-a-dragon. Frustration coursed through her, but she was pulled from her thoughts as the sound of Gandalf's voice magnified with power echoed through the room.

"Enough! If I say Bilbo Baggins is a burglar, then a burglar he is!" Nimroel felt her jaw drop as she saw Gandalf return to his usual size. She listened as he described hobbits, smiling and nodding as he defended the peaceful race. If she was going to go on the journey, she wanted Bilbo to come also, and it seemed like Gandalf's persuasive powers were the only way this was going to happen.

"Very well. We will do it your way," Thorin conceded, but unfortunately for her, he then turned his angry glare onto her. "And what about this monstrosity? I refuse to have _her_ with me to reclaim our homeland. She is an elf," he spat the word out as if it was dirt on his tongue, "and it is her fault we lost Erebor in the first place." Nimroel shook under his gaze, her face flushing with shame and her golden eyes cast downward. She could feel the angry glares from all of the dwarves as the eyed her.

"I told you already, Thorin," Gandalf muttered angrily, "she is not what you think she is."

"Do you try and insult my sanity? Look at her ears. Look at the way she holds herself. Standing here as if she is better than the rest of us. She is an elf if I ever saw one." Nimroel hunched her shoulders as if to fend off a blow. She knew she should speak out and defend herself, but she couldn't. It was not in her to speak back to anyone, whether they were right or wrong, and that was not going to change now. Sensing this about her, Gandalf continued.

"Thorin, I am certain that your eyes are working but your mind is not. Of course she looks like an elf, her mother was one." Here he paused and held up a hand for suspense. "But her father was a man and she was raised by a hobbit. If she is like anyone in this room, it is Bilbo Baggins," the wizard said, raising an eyebrow at the company seated around the table.

"So she is a half breed. It still remains, Gandalf, that she is an elf, and a _woman_. I will not let her accompany us to the Lonely Mountain." Gandalf began to chuckle.

"Well, it so happens that I have invited her and much like Mr. Baggins, if I say she is coming, she will be." Nimroel heard the finality in his voice and was grateful for it, but she still kept her gaze trained towards the floor.

As the conversation died, the group of dwarves slowly disbanded and carried their mugs of ale with them towards the living room. Once the room was empty, she felt Gandalf lay a hand on her shoulder.

"I suggest you get some rest, Nimroel. We will be leaving early in the morning." She nodded mutely and made her way down one off Bilbo's halls into a spare bedroom where she threw herself onto the bed without unchanging (a very unhobbitish thing to do) and fell asleep.

The last thing she remembered before her mind succumbed to darkness was the sound of several deep voiced humming and the smell of polished wood.

Nimroel awoke with a start, her mind foggy with sleep and her heart hammering in her chest. _This is not my room_ was all she could think as she stared at the blank walls. Glancing down at herself, she saw that she was still dressed in her brown leather tights and long white tunic. And then, all of a sudden, memories from the night before rushed back to her.

_The journey_. Springing to her feet she rushed into the kitchen to find that it was empty. Nimroel next checked the dining room, but it too was empty. The living room, pantry, and all the bedrooms were the same way. The house was deserted. Rushing to the front hall and grabbing her bag and bow and arrows, she tried to swallow her panic. _They've left me. I will never leave the shire now_. Pushing these thoughts aside, Nimroel paused to catch her breath and then stepped out the round, green door.

"We thought you would never make it," a cheerful voice chimed from the bottom of the walk. As her eyes adjusted to the sunlight, a large group of ponies came into view clustered on the narrow road. Gandalf stood at the gate astride his own massive horse and holding a pair of reins out to her. "You'll be needing these."

Without hesitating Nimroel rushed down the walk and hastily stuffed her bag into the saddle bag. As she moved to put her quiver and bow in the other bag a motion by Gandalf caught her attention.

"Best if you wear those," he said lightly, but Nimroel could see the seriousness with which he spoke. Nodding, she slung the quiver across her back and pulled herself up into the saddle. _Thank goodness I know how to ride_.

Once settled, Nimroel glanced around at the company. Each dwarf sat astride a pony, all looking perfectly comfortable in their saddles. _I didn't know dwarves could ride. _Just another thing to add to her list of things she hadn't read about dwarves alongside rude and capable of eating more than their body weights.

As if her presence had cued the company to head out, Thorin kicked his horse into a slow trot and the rest of the company moved to follow. Squeezing her pony beneath her legs, she felt the animal begrudgingly begin to move. There was a thudding to her left and she saw Gandalf canter past her to the front of the line and abandon her in the middle of the group.

Balin rode in front of her, his white beard bouncing as the horse moved. Nimroel remembered how he was the only one that had been kind to her the night before and was thankful that he was near her. Curious as to who was behind her, she turned to look over her shoulder. Immediately her pale face flushed red and she whipped herself around to face the front once more. The two young dwarves were riding behind her, on dark haired and serious and the other wild and lion-like in appearance. As she had turned to look at them, she had been met by two pairs of angry glares. _They hate me and I have done nothing to them. _Hanging her head in shame, she let her horse follow Balin's in silence.

The first half of the day passed uneventfully as they rode out of Hobbiton. Nimroel was disappointed when they did not ride past her home, but she suspected Gandalf had something to do with that. _I cannot become homesick now_ she reminded herself. But still sadness pressed down on her as the rolling hills of her old home faded behind her. Even worse was the fact that Bilbo had decided not to accompany them, truly leaving her alone with the dwarves.

It was nearing midday when Nimroel heard a great shout. It was wild a frantic and she felt worry crease her brow. Glancing ahead of her, she noticed that none of the other riders had heard anything. Once again, the shout came, this time closer, and again, none of her company seemed to notice. Finally on the third cry Nimroel heard a disgruntled rustling from behind her.

"What's that?"

"Dunno. Don't really care."

"Well I heard someone yelling."

And then suddenly out of the bushes popped the person Nimroel wanted to see the most: Bilbo Baggins.

"Bilbo!" she crowed happily. The hobbit was panting, holding aloft his contract. At the sound of her voice he grimaced in her direction, unable to get in enough air for a smile. The party came to a halt, all staring at the small hobbit.

"I signed it," he panted, waving the paper and in air and making his way over to Balin to hand it to the old dwarf. After glancing at it for a moment, he let out a chuckle.

"Everything appears to be in order. Welcome, Master Baggins, to the company of Thorin Oakenshield," Balin said regally, tucking the paper into his thick fur coat. A great cheer came out from all the dwarves except Thorin who looked extremely disgruntled and Nimroel couldn't help but feel jealous that the company was glad Bilbo had come along and would do anything to get rid of her. However, she couldn't find it in herself to be bitter long.

"Do come ride next to me, Bilbo," she called out to her friend, waving her hand at the hobbit who was clearly not fond of horseback. After several minutes where Bilbo had to untangle his reins and coax his pony into a trot did he catch up to Nimroel.

"I'm so glad you came, Bilbo. It will be good to have someone from home with me on this journey," she whispered to him cheerfully, glancing around her at the green fields. The hobbit nodded, scrunching his face up as if about to sneeze.

"Ohh. All this horse hair, I'm having a reaction," he stuttered, pinching the bridge of his nose with one hand and searching his pockets for something. When his hands came up empty, she saw his eyes widen in alarm.

"What is it?" She chuckled.

"I've forgotten my handkerchief," he whispered, sounding positively alarmed. Laughing harder, Nimroel reached down into her saddle bag and pulled out a clean cloth.

"I'm afraid this is all I've got, but I hope it will do," she said, handing it to him. Bilbo cast her a grateful look before taking the cloth.

"It's good to know that there will be at least one familiar face on this trip," Bilbo said, tucking the cloth into his front pocket. Nimroel beamed at him fondly.

"Yes, I feel the same way." They glanced at each other and Nimroel burst into laughter, her heart light and the sound echoing gaily across the fields.

{{{}}}

Fili frowned as the half breed threw her head back in laughter and he saw his brother tense beside him. She had been silent when their trip began, her unnerving golden eyes dull with loneliness and her graceful movements stiff with exhaustion. The elf child unnerved him, even if he had only been around her for a few hours. He hated the way her curious eyes seemed to take everything in as if she was examining each of them. The worst part of it was that it was apparent that she had inherited the elves' beauty. However, Nimroel was in front of him and he and Kili thankfully did not have to look her in the eyes.

"Her laughter is strange. Sets me on edge," Kili whispered to him, his dark eyes boring holes into the caramel curls of the elf girl.

"She was fine until the hobbit showed up," Fili replied, glaring at Bilbo as if it was his fault the girl's silent vigil had been broken. The two friends in front of him had fallen silent.

"Why did Gandalf invite her? No one wants her here."

"Who knows, maybe she has some special talents that would be of use to us." He saw Kili's shoulders shake with laughter at his absurd idea.

"Not possible," his younger brother replied. Fili noticed Nimroel tunic shift as her shoulder muscles tightened. _So she can hear us? _Although Fili was not usually the mean sibling, he felt something dark boiling in his stomach. Reaching out to punch his brother's shoulder, Fili nodded in Nimroel's direction and pointed to his ear. Nodding in understanding, Fili grinned wickedly.

"In fact," Fili said, raising his voice just enough so he was certain she could hear but not enough to be suspicious, "I think we would all prefer is she just went home."

"Prefer? No we would _love_ it if she just went home. A journey across Middle Earth is no place for a woman, especially an elf."

"Why did Gandalf invite her? She's just going to slow us down." Fili said jeeringly. He and Kili went back and forth a few more times, making a couple for hurtful remarks before changing the subject and then letting the conversation die off. He watched Nimroel with satisfaction, seeing the way her shoulders sagged and her head hung low. After a few minutes of silence, Bilbo reached out and patted her shoulder reassuringly.

"Nimroel? You okay?" Fili felt his heart soar at the words, he could hear their conversation. _Two can play at this game, if you want to spy on us we will spy on you_. He waited anxiously for her reply. _Say something rude about us and I swear_… he thought, his mind wandering dark places. However, her reply shocked them.

"Of course." Fili could hear the way her voice wobbled, but she did not elaborate which annoyed him.

"Do you want me to say something to them?" The hobbit asked.

"No, no. Don't you worry about it, Bilbo. It's really fine."

"No it's not. You look awful. Should I get Gandalf?" At this the girl's head snapped up as she looked at him in alarm.

"No!" She almost shouted in alarm, and then softer, "no. I don't want him to worry about me. I sighed up for this didn't I?"

"Yes but what they're saying?"

"It is perfectly within themselves to say whatever they want." Nimroel's voice was still quiet; she didn't know that he and Kili were listening. "I can only hope that somewhere on this journey they may not hate me so much. But if they do, that will be ok."

Fili felt his mouth drop open in shock. She was just going to accept their hatred. After all the terrible things they had said about her she had not even been slightly angry, and in fact had forgiven them. The dark feeling that had been burning in his stomach seemed to cool, and although still there, he suddenly felt uncomfortable with it.

In front of him Nimroel's shoulders sagged and he wondered why she held it in. Beside him, he saw Kili turn to look at him. Glancing at Kili, he saw his brother's eyes mirroring his own. Guilt seeped throughout him, but not enough that he could forget her Elven ears or strange laughter. Only when she stopped being what she was could he truly accept her. Only when she was not an elf.

But that would never happen and so Fili supposed acceptance would never come either.

**Whew so that's done. Sorry if you didn't like my portrayal of Fili and Kili's characters. I promise they won't be mean the whole time. (Remember this is an eventual OC/Kili so they can't be) This chapter was really hard to write so I hope yall enjoyed. Thanks!**


	5. Chapter 4: The Stories

**Another new chapter! I return to school tomorrow so my updates may become less regular! I'm sorry:( I hope you like the next installment of "Chasing Fire". This chapter made me really sad, but there is LOTS of character relationships forming and such. Thanks so much to all who reviewed and favorite and followed. If you have any questions so far, you can read the reviews by draegon-fire. She had made several good and correct observations! But really, thanks to all who reviewed! Hope you guys like my changes of perspective, I feel like it keeps the plot moving. Anyways, here is the next chapter!**

Chapter 4:

Over the next few days Nimroel developed her own pattern for the journey. As a half elf she hardly slept at all and so she was always up early and preparing herself a breakfast by the time the dwarves awoke. She had never intended to cook for herself, but Bombur the designated cook always seemed to run out of food just before she got there.

When it came time to go riding, Nimroel would fall in step beside Bilbo and behind Balin who at least didn't seem bothered by her like the rest of the dwarves. Unfortunately for her, Fili and Kili seemed to be making it their duty to ride behind her so that they could throw out at least one snide remark a day. Although the number of cruel things they said had lessened, Nimroel felt herself becoming more and more unhappy, although she never showed it. In fact, much to the two dwarf prince's dismay, she was quite the opposite and was usually talking animatedly with Bilbo or laughing at something he had said. She quickly found that Bilbo was her only solace for Gandalf had abandoned her to talk with Thorin each day at the front of the company.

When at last they halted for the night, Nimroel would slowly grab her sleeping things and lay them out. The dwarves would then move to gather together as far from her as possible. Bilbo had offered to sleep next to her once, but Nimroel had assured him that she would rather he make friends with the dwarves than with her, and so the hobbit slept with the dwarves. Nimroel often made a fire for herself because the nights were cold and the main campfire was often far away from her.

It was on the fourth day of riding, if one includes the day the company left Bag End, when Nimroel decided to brave a conversation with Balin. Kili had just let loose another snide remark about her mother and she wanted to distance herself from the vicious dwarf boys.

Squeezing her legs around her pony, Nimroel urged him into a slow trot so that she could catch up with Balin. Bilbo gave her a nervous glance for he too had heard the rude remark, but Nimroel only smiled at him in reassurance and then turned her attention to the old dwarf. As she pulled up alongside him, she saw him turn and smile at her.

"I was wondering when you were going to come introduce yourself," he chuckled, old black eyes sparkling with amusement. "I have heard you talking with Master Baggins. You tell wonderful stories, lassie." Nimroel felt her usual blush creep up onto her face at the compliment and she beamed at him. Perhaps she had been right and not all dwarves were cruel. _I quite like him in fact_ she thought privately.

"Thank you, sir."

"Ay, don't call me sir. I'm not yet that old. Balin is what everyone calls me." The dwarf dropped his reins for a moment and offered her his hand. Nimroel took it gratefully, feeling palms worn by forages and war and time under her own flawless skin.

"And I am Nimroel."

"Interesting name, an old Elven name if I remember correctly. Interesting that your mother should give it to you." Nimroel felt her interest spike and her curiosity began to itch at her skin.

"Why is that interesting?" Balin gave her a good, long stare before answering.

"Well you are not really an elf are you?" He said plainly. Nimroel felt the words hit like knives but she nodded. Although he hadn't meant the offense, it was still there. _According to him I am not worthy of my name_. Seeing how Nimroel had fallen silent, Balin piped up again.

"Oh I didn't mean it like that," he reassured her, and Nimroel felt her spirits soar once more. "All I was trying to say is that you're part man too, and it is interesting that your mother still bestowed upon you one of the oldest and most powerful names of her people."

"Maybe she just thought it sounded nice?" Nimroel offered, a smile breaking out on her face. Balin looked at her for a moment and then they both tossed their heads back in laughter. His was deep and dry as if the old dwarf could not get in enough air to maintain his chuckle while hers was loud and ringing, pleasant on the ears like water fall. When at last they had stopped laughing and Nimroel had wiped the tears from her eyes, the young girl asked Balin a question.

"Balin?" The old dwarf grunted in response. "Can you tell me about Smaug? I don't really know anything about him…" she trailed of lamely but Balin smiled at her. For the rest of the day, the old dwarf told her tales from his people about the dragon and how he had conquered their homeland of Erebor. The girl listened in fascination as he spun tales throughout the day.

{{{}}}

Kili dismounted that night in a foul mood. They were finally out of the Shire, which he was slightly disappointed about to his own surprise. He liked the rolling green hills fare more than the woods they were now.

They had camped that night under a sort of rocky outcrop; a small cave was carved into the base. Much to his annoyance, the half-breed had already set up her sleeping mat in the cave and made herself a fire. _How does she know how to do that?_ He had never seen an elf make a fire so quickly before and certainly not a man. It irked him that she didn't depend on the dwarves for their food or even their warmth. Even he and Fili's jabs at her while riding seemed to not affect her. She was still perfectly happy and cheerful throughout. Even worse was today, she had struck up a conversation with Balin. _Traitor_ he thought venomously, sending the old dwarf an angry glare. They had talked for hours, her frightening golden eyes wide with fascination. Often she would break the monotonous tone of Balin's voice to ask questions or let out a squeal of fear. Kili had found himself itching to punch Balin in order to keep him quiet. _Those are dwarf stories. She has no right to hear them_. What would Thorin have done if he heard Balin? _At least Fili and I would make him proud_.

"What are we going to do about the half-breed? She can't sleep in the cave," Fili said darkly, looking at the small figure of the girl who was huddled around her fire.

"Why don't we go pay her a visit," he replied viciously. Grinning wickedly at each other, the two dwarf princes approached the girl until they were standing on the other side of the fire from her. Kili smiled as he saw her shoulders tense and she slowly looked up.

"This is a lovely cave," Fili chimed, his voice dripping with false kindness. Kili saw wariness in Nimroel's golden eyes and he smirked.

"It is brother," Kili added, glancing around the small, dirty rock structure. "But I didn't know elves like caves?"

"I thought they like trees and _nature_," Fili leered.

"Why don't you go out and enjoy the trees, deary," Kili said, frowning at her. Nimroel sat still like stone, her face masked so that he could not read her thoughts. And then slowly, much to his satisfaction, he watched the half-breed begin to gather her things. Her movements were tired, but she did not argue. Just as she was getting to her feet, Kili her an angry voice pipe up.

"Nimroel don't you dare move," the voice of Bilbo Baggins said angrily and she froze. Kili turned, his face livid with frustration, to see the young hobbit marching towards them wagging a finger at he and his brother. "You have put up with quite enough."

"Bilbo…" she said softly, her tone pleading with him to stop but the hobbit continued.

"No, no. I know you don't want me to say anything but this is foolish. It's a cave?" Bilbo crossed his arms in exasperation. "If you want to sleep in there so bad all you have to do is set up your mats on the other side."

"And what if we don't want to share with a half-breed?" Fili murmured threateningly.

"Well you certainly will have to if you want to sleep in that cave, young master dwarves," the booming voice of Gandalf said as the wizard approached. To his dismay he saw Nimroel's shoulders slump with relief. "I'm sure Miss Nimroel will be more than willing to share her fire with you." The elf girl nodded hesitantly.

"Really? It's just a cave. Have some decency," Bilbo said. _Hobbits and their stupid manners_ Kili thought as he laid out his sleeping mat. Unfortunately for him, Fili had beat him into the cave and he was closer to the half-breed than he would have liked. However the girl wasn't looking at them and instead was gazing out into the night, a frown on her face. Angry that he hast lost the fight, Kili piped up.

"Half-breed. What do you hear?" He asked, the insult sliding out easily. Turning to face him, he saw that her golden eyes were full of wonder. Nimroel sat huddled against the wall, her curls pushed to her left side and her knees hugged to her chest by delicate, pale arms. However, as he looked at her, he began to notice that she lacked the typical high arching eyebrows of the elves and she was much curvier like human women.

"I hear howling," she said quietly. Focusing on his hearing for a moment, Kili listened but heard nothing.

"I hear nothing," Fili said stiffly. Once again, the girl remained silent. _Why won't you say anything? Defend yourself_ he wanted to demand of her but he remained silent. Suddenly, after a few minutes a scream echoed through the camp and Bilbo came scampering over to their fire; the rest of the company as asleep.

"What was that?" The hobbit asked, his voice trembling.

"Orcs," Kili whispered, nudging his brother with his elbow so that he might catch on to the joke. Another scream echoed through the camp followed by an unearthly howl.

"Throat-cutters. There'll be dozens of them out there. The lowlands are crawling with them," his blond brother added. Kili had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at the frightened expression that alighted onto the hobbit's face. Turning to glance at Nimroel, he saw much to his disappointment that she did not seemed to be worried at all by the news that there were orcs in the area.

""They strike in the wee small hours, when everyone's asleep. Quick and quiet; no screams, just lots of blood," he said, mustering all of his strength to keep his face straight. And then Kili felt his heart sink as another voice joined the conversation.

""You think that's funny? You think a night raid by orcs is a joke?" His uncle Thorin whispered angrily.

"We didn't mean anything by it." Kili hung his head in shame. Of all the things he dislike in this world, disappointing his uncle was his least favorite. He might be king someday, and although unlikely, he knew Thorin expected him to act like it. _Good thing Fili is the elder brother_ he thought glumly, looking down into the fire so that he wouldn't have to look at his uncle.

"No, you didn't. You know nothing of the world," Thorin grumbled unhappily before wandering off. Balin appeared shortly after Thorin had left to reassure Bilbo, but Kili did not bother to follow the conversation. He and Fili already knew the story of Thorin's great deeds and of Azog the Defiler's evil. Instead he lay back on his sleeping mat and let the sounds of Balin's voice lull him into a stupor.

Beside him he heard a small shuffle and someone let out a small whimper. Knowing that Fili was fast asleep, Kili sat up to see Nimroel curled up in a tight ball facing the wall. _So she is afraid—or she is hurt_ Kili realized. However, this news did not please him the way he thought it would and a small frown appeared on his face when she let out another small whimper. Silence fell in the camp and Kili glanced around to see that Balin, Thorin, and Bilbo had gone to sleep. Nimroel seemed to have realized this too and a small sob escaped her lips.

Kili felt torn. One part of him told him to let her cry; she should never have accompanied them on this journey. But another, much smaller half of him felt as if he had been stabbed in the chest. _I did this_ he thought numbly. He spoke before he had even thought about it.

"Nimroel?" He whispered kindly. The girl jerked and sat up, wiping at her face in the upward motion so that he would not have ever noticed it if he had not been looking for it. The girl stared at him, and with a shock he saw hatred and fear burning in her eyes for the first time.

"Yes?" Her voice was small and he heard it tremble.

"Are you okay?"

"Of course," she replied. It was the answer she always gave Bilbo after he and Fili had finished making fun of her. _She is afraid of us_ he realized with an even bigger shock. _But we haven't ever hit her?_ Confusions flashed through him and then he understood. _She is afraid of what we will say to her._

"Are you afraid of the orcs?" He asked, wanting to provoke her into reacting and calling him and Fili out for what they had done.

"No."

"Then what are you afraid of?" His voice wasn't as kind as before and he saw her wince as his tone became harder.

"Why do you care?" Was all she asked. _I guess that's a reaction_ he thought glumly. _At least she's talking back_.

"I heard you crying." He admitted. As he spoke, he saw Nimroel change. It was if another person had come and carried off the girl he had been traveling with and replaced her. Although she looked relatively the same, a coldness had settled about her and seemed to radiate from her skin. Golden eyes became dull and stormy and her jaw was taught with anger. Her hands clenched into fists and her lips were pursed into a frown. Kili saw with a shock that he was finally getting a reaction from her, but now that he had it he didn't want it. _Smile_ he thought desperately. _Laugh, be happy like you always are_.

"I do not see why that would make you care?" Nimroel replied stonily. Kili was taken aback by the hardness in her voice. "This entire trip you have done nothing but insult me and my parents. But if you had ever taken the chance to get to know me, you would have learned that my parents were murdered."

"I-I didn't know," he heard himself stutter.

"Of course you didn't. You never bothered to learn anything about me," she snapped, fire blazing in her eyes. "And just a moment ago you tried to scare me with the news of orcs, but I won't be frightened by them. Would you like to know why?" Kili remained silent. "Those howls I heard, they were not from wolves, Master Dwarf." Kili shivered, he did not like this reaction. Although he did not like the girl, he still wanted her happy demeanor back. "They were wargs," Nimroel continued. "And if you knew anything about me you would know that my parents were killed by a pack of the beasts when I was only months old.

Her words struck deep into Kili as she gave him one final glare, turned sharply, and laid back down. He sat there stunned, unable to comprehend what he had just been told. _Her parents were killed…by wargs._ He felt sick as he lay back down. He still did not like Nimroel, but something new had formed in him where the girl was concerned: sympathy. Just before falling into sleep, Kili heard a sound from Nimroel's side of the cave. A sob of intense grief left the girl and Kili fell into a dark sleep, dreaming of wargs chasing him across Middle Earth.


	6. Chapter 5: The Competition

**Ok I'm back with the long awaited chapter five. Thanks SO MUCH to all my reviewers and followers and favoriters (pretty sure that's not a word but oh well). So as you can tell some tensions are appearing between the people in the company especially between Nimroel and a certain pair of dwarf princes. As you can see I'm loosely sticking to what happened/dialogue in the movie but not fully so get mad if I change a few things. After all, I do have an OC to fit in here somewhere. And finally, I do not own anything so thanks for reading!**

Chapter 5: The Competition

Nimroel awoke early the next morning to biting cold and an ashy fire pit beside her. Kili and Fili slept noiselessly beside her, their mats pushed close together for warmth. As she examined the two dwarf princes, memories of the night before began to drift back to her. It felt as if ice had been poured down her back when Nimroel's eyes landed on Kili's face. _What had she said last night?_ Fear gripped her and she quickly averted her eyes from the young dwarf's sleeping figure. And then she remembered. A small groaned escaped her lips and Nimroel moved to gather her things. _Why did I tell him? Would he be angry? Would she be sent back to the Shire?_ Nimroel was not one for talking back, but she had been surprised by the dwarf prince's concern and had shared it with him. _And not in the nicest of ways_ she thought, rolling up her sleeping mat and tucking it into her bag. Getting to her feet silently, Nimroel tiptoed away from the sleeping figures of her company mates and into the woods where the horses were tied up.

Moving through the grazing figures of the horses, Nimroel finally laid eyes upon hers: a black male she had named Eago. It was a name she had come across while reading one of Gandalf's scrolls and upon seeing Eago had felt it was a fitting name for her horse. Nimroel approached him slowly, setting her pack down next to her saddle and pads. Eago lifted his head to her outstretched hand; his muzzle was soft and soothing to Nimroel. Taking this as a sign that she was free to pet him Nimroel moved to his side, running her fingers through his man and pulling out twigs and pieces of grass.

"It must be nice to be a horse," she mumbled, pressing her forehead against his neck. Nimroel knew she was still moping about the night before, but it felt nice to be able to speak her mind without having to worry about offending anyone. "You can just run away when things frighten you, can't you?" she said, letting her fingers wander over his soft hide. Eago did not respond to her touch and continued to graze. "My dad used to ride, did you know that? Gandalf told me. When he found him, he was wearing riding clothes. My mom must have been sharing the saddle with him." Eago picked his head up sharply, hearing the shift in her tone, but quickly lowered it once he realized that she was not offering him food. "Their horse must have bucked them right off when the wargs came. Not that I blame them," Nimroel muttered. And she didn't. Although Nimroel missed her parents dearly and regretted that she never had the opportunity to know them, she did have a family. Uncle Eddy had taken her in and treated her like a daughter for as long as she could remember. Nimroel did have a family, even if it wasn't her original one. Sighing, she plopped down into the grass next to Eago.

"Where do you think we're going Eago? I know to the Lonely Mountain but where in between? I've read ever so much about the world and there is so much I want to see." She gave her horse a knowing look before continuing. "The Misty Mountains sound beautiful, and so does Mirkwood," Nimroel mused, her mind wandering back to her readings. "Do you think we might go to Rivendell?" But the thought was so ridiculous Nimroel let out a snort of disgust. But a feeling was growing inside her until it was so powerful that it finally burst out as laugher. The sound rang across the forest clearing, causing the horses to throw their ears in her direction and a pair of birds to take flight. But Nimroel didn't mind that she was making so much noise. She had been so stressed for the past few days worrying about the journey and about her lineage and about being accepted that she had not managed to enjoy herself. Her laughter kept coming, racking her body with gasping breaths and causing her to roll back into the grass. When at last she found her breath, Nimroel realized she felt decidedly better.

"That was a silly question, wasn't it, Eago?" Nimroel said, leaning forward to stroke his muzzle. Eago ignored her. "They would never go to Rivendell. They hate elves."

Suddenly from the far side of the clearing Nimroel heard a sharp cracking sound and saw the sturdy figure of Thorin emerge from the trees. His long hair was perfectly brushed back and his ornate furs carefully arranged; only the light bags under his eyes gave away his exhaustion from the trip. He approached Nimroel slowly, his face carefully controlled so that even perceptive Nimroel couldn't read his thoughts. _What does he want_ Nimroel wondered, her happiness from the moment before suddenly less. When he had finally reached her, Thorin stopped and began to speak.

{{{}}}

Thorin paused for just a moment and then spoke.

"We heard a noise and I came to see if everything was okay with the horses. Is everything alright?" The question came our harsher than he had intended, but then again he had not planned on running into the half-breed. She stared up at him in surprise, her golden eyes searching his face for some kind of clue. Thorin noticed the way her lips pressed together just slightly and he mentally punched himself for the way he had spoken. _She's perceptive, I'll give her that_.

"Certainly. I did not mean to disturb you." Her voice was perfectly neutral and he saw Nimroel's usual blank look slide onto her face. He had seen the look many times, especially when she was riding. This blank face was often accompanied by a sympathetic or worried look on Bilbo's face, but he did not know what it meant.

"What were you doing?" Thorin snapped, angry that he had been awoken and forced to check on this measly half-breed for nothing.

"I was laughing," Nimroel replied, her voice quaking with fear. As she said this, Thorin remembered her unnervingly beautiful laughter that sounded like a mixture of birdsong and falling water. _If I did not know she was half man I would think her an elf_. This thought nagged at the back of his mind as he stared down at the girl.

She wore simple clothes: brown leather tights, boots, and a long white tunic. Her caramel colored curls fell in neat spirals down her back, although sometimes she pulled her mane back into a single braid down her back. He had noticed that her face was often flushed with excitement or embarrassment, usually full of life, but when she was cast into a situation she was uncomfortable with she shut down completely. _She is weak; she cannot stand up for herself_ Thorin thought happily, reveling in her faults.

"Well then attempt to be quieter, Nimroel," he said harshly. He saw her flinch, but he didn't care. Being around her this early in the morning had put him in a bad mood, especially after her comment about the dwarves avoiding Rivendell. "I know that elves are not the most considerate of the races, but I figured since you are a half-breed you might have learned some manners by now." He saw how his jibe hit her, knowing that he had offended the hobbit side of her by calling her out on a lack of manners. To his dismay though, she did no more than allow a spark of fear seep through her golden eyes before she had regained control of her face. Spinning in frustration at her lack of reaction, Thorin stormed away from the girl before he said something truly nasty.

{{{}}}

Nimroel felt another wave of exhaustion wash over her, but it did nothing to dampen her cheery spirits. Even her short conversation with Thorin that morning had only managed to bring her down for only a few minutes. She and Bilbo had rode next to each other the whole day swapping stories and gazing with appreciation at the world outside the Shire. Nimroel noticed with some dismay, however, that although Bilbo was putting on a brave face he was not as fond of the outside world as her. She knew he still longed for his old Bag End. _Well at least he has me in this madness_ Nimroel reminded herself, proud that she could be there to support her friend through his worry.

"Tell me another story, Nimroel?" Bilbo asked, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. Nimroel racked her memory for a moment until finally landing upon a suitable story for her mood.

"Did I ever tell you about the time I was learning to shoot and I ruined Hamfast Cotton's prize pumpkin?" She asked, the memory bringing a smile to her face.

"No I don't think you have," he said, his face eager as she got comfortable in her saddle to tell the story.

"Well, it was many years ago when I was only fifteen. I had received a package of scrolls the month previous from Gandalf and several of them instructed me in the art of making and shooting bows and arrows." Nimroel remembered how she had stayed awake late into the night to read the manuals with fondness. "I finished reading them near the end of summer and it was another fortnight before I had made a bow that was passable enough to learn on." She heard a snort from behind her and realized with dismay that Fili and Kili were listening, but she continued anyways. "It was near the middle of autumn when I felt ready to attempt some shooting so I took a hay bale from the barn and rolled it up on top of a small knoll in the field next to my house." Bilbo listened intently as Nimroel spun her tale.

"My first couple rounds were terrible and I had gone to collect my arrows three times already before I finally realized that I was dropping my arms when releasing and sending the arrow straight into the ground." Nimroel dropped her reins for a moment and demonstrated the motion with her hands. "On my fourth round I hit the ground next to the hay bale once or twice, which was a huge improvement from before," she said knowingly. "But I kept thinking that I was not using the right angle and so I tilted the bow back more and sent the arrow loose. Well of course this was the best one I had released yet even if it did go flying over the hay bale and into the field behind the knoll. But I was ever so happy, Bilbo, because I thought I was doing it right." At this Nimroel let out a small giggle, knowing what came next at her story. "I thought I was at the right angle and so I used up the rest of my arrows, sending every single one of them over the hay bale. And then when I went to collect them…" she tilted her head back in laughter.

"Oh it was awful. I thought it was just another field behind the knoll but it was Mr. Cotton's new pumpkin patch that he had bought the year previous. The worst part of it all though," she spluttered out between fits of giggles, "was that I had hit his prize pumpkin." At this point both she and Bilbo were dying from laughter. She supposed from the silence behind her that this was something only amusing to a hobbit, but for once she didn't mind. "It was the big six foot wide one he had been showing off to the neighborhood for a fortnight. And I didn't just hit it once. I hit the thing _five_ times."

"Well, what did he do?" Bilbo asked, his cheeks flushed from laughter.

"Well at first all he did was yell at me, but then when he had calmed down a little he marched up the hill and rolled the hay bale down into his own barn claiming that I owed him. And that was that, although the old coot hasn't been as fond of me since," she said cheerfully, not at all worried that Hamfast Cotton held a grudge against her for damaging his pumpkin.

It was as the story ended that Nimroel realized Eago had stopped moving and that she and Bilbo were the only people still mounted. In front of them was a small, dilapidated shack. Nimroel noticed with some curiosity that the timbers still seemed sound, not rotted away, although the roof bore a gaping hole and one side had crumbled completely. As she dismounted, she also became aware of an extremely faint, but still apparent smell. It was wretched like a bad mix between rotting meat and blood. Crinkling her nose in distaste, she and Bilbo approached the cottage where Thorin was giving orders.

"We'll camp here for the night. Fili, Kili, look after the ponies. Make sure you stay with them," he commanded. The two princes bowed lowly before scampering back to the horses. Nimroel saw with some amusement that Gandalf was standing off to the side talking to himself and staring at the house in wonder. _Just like him_ she thought fondly.

"A farmer and his family used to live here," he mumbled. Nimroel felt herself frown, not liking the sound of that.

"Oin, Gloin," Thorin called.

"Aye?"

"Get a fire going."

"Right you are." The two dwarves bustled off to look for firewood, but Nimroel only had eyes for Gandalf. His expression of wonder had darkened into one of fear.

"I think it would be wiser to move on. We could make for the Hidden Valley," he suggested, this time addressing Thorin. Nimroel felt her heart flutter at the sound of Rivendell. _Elves_ she thought longingly. _Maybe they would know my mother?_ But her excitement was short lived.

"I have told you already, I will not go near that place."

"Why not? The elves could help us. We could get food, rest, advice." The gray wizard seemed adamant about going there and Nimroel couldn't help but agree. Not having to hunt for her own food would be nice for a change.

"I do not need their advice."

"We have a map that we cannot read. Lord Elrond could help us."

"Help? A dragon attacks Erebor, what help came from the Elves? Orcs plunder Moria, desecrate our sacred halls, the Elves looked on and did nothing," Thorin seethed, his face red with rage. Nimroel felt as if bubble of air inside her had been popped. _So that's why he hates me_ she realized sadly. She had always held her mother's race in high esteem and it hurt to learn that they were not above wrongdoing. "You ask me to seek out the very people who betrayed my grandfather and betrayed my father."

"You are neither of them. I did not give you that map and key for you to hold on to the past," Gandalf snapped. Nimroel had never seen her old mentor so angry.

"I did not know that they were yours to keep." Before Thorin could say any more Gandalf had stormed out of the tent, leaving a tense silence behind him. Bilbo paused for a moment and then ran after the wizard. Nimroel hear their conversation faintly.

"Everything alright? Gandalf, where are you going?"

"To seek the company of the only one around here who's got any sense," Nimroel smiled; she knew what was coming next.

"Who's that?" Bilbo asked, thinking there was someone around with a warm home and clean beds.

"Myself, Mr. Baggins! I've had enough of dwarves for one day." And then the wizard was gone, leaving a very disappointed hobbit in his wake.

Unable to bear the tension in the broken down cabin anymore Nimroel left, her boots falling silently upon the grass. Pulling her bow from her back Nimroel strung it with a bow and made her way into the woods.

Clearly something about this place had set Gandalf on edge which had in turn upset her. However, Nimroel was not content in waiting around for the wizard and had decided to go off hunting, seeing as she would have to provide her own dinner as usual. The woods were dark under the trees and the only sounds came from wind blowing occasionally through the leaves or the rustle of a night creature. Nimroel kept her bow taught, pointing the tip of the arrow wherever she looked so that she might be ready to shoot at a moment's notice.

After about an hour Nimroel found the opportunity she was looking for. From the corner of her eye she saw a small, furry nose peak its head out of a hole in the ground she had not noticed before. Moving silently, she positioned herself so that she was ready to strike. Nimroel exhaled and lifted her bow to her cheek so that she could stare down the shaft of the arrow. Releasing her breath one more time Edolin let go of the string and felt the arrow fly from her hand. A moment passed and then there was a thud as the creature fell to the ground—dead.

Springing to her feet, Nimroel went to collect the animal which turned out to be a rabbit. With a grimace she pulled her arrow from the body. Thankfully she had hit the creature in the eye and her arrow came out cleanly.

Nimroel made her way through the woods until she arrived in a field with the trees at her back. Far off to her left she could see the twinkle of the campfire and she turned her feet in that direction. As she moved, Nimroel admired the setting sun over the forest. If she strained her eyes she thought she could see a large green expanse off in the distance that could be the Shire. She smiled at the thought and continued towards the fire. The small flame flashed in and out of sight as she climbed up and down small hills; dried up grass crunched beneath her feet.

Suddenly as she topped on off the hills Nimroel heard a slicing sound to her right and before she had stopped to think she had dropped the rabbit and drawn and notched her bow in one motion. But as she turned to face the noise she found that an arrow was already pointed at her.

{{{}}}

Kili saw the speed of the half-breed's reaction as Fili drew his sword and was grudgingly impressed. She had surprised them when she topped the hill and both princes had immediately drawn their weapons before they had even realized who it was. Nimroel seemed just as surprised to see them and immediately unstrung her bow a placed her arrow back in her quiver. However Kili and Fili only lowered their weapons when they saw her turn to pick up her dead rabbit. For a moment the girl paused and then she approached the two of them, her movements stiff and hesitant.

"I could have shot you," Kili stated. He saw the girl flinch and once again he realized that he had spoken harshly.

"Did you actually think you were going to be able to use that thing?" Fili demanded, nodding at the bow in her hand. Nimroel remained silent, her face blank. Kili stared at the girl and shame welled up inside him. This was the first time he had been around her since her confession the previous night and he wasn't quite certain what to do with himself. Knowing that his brother was waiting on him to continue the jibe Kili blurted out the first thing that came to his mind.

"We heard your story today." Kili had meant it as a compliment to her storytelling abilities he realized with dismay. However, from the look on Fili and Nimroel's face, they had taken it as an insult assuming that he was talking about her lack of aim.

"I am certainly no bowman," she murmured after a moment.

"You certainly carry that thing around as if you were," Fili snorted. "How about a little competition?" Nimroel's eyes widened in fear.

"I would be certain that I would lose—" she started, but Fili interrupted her.

"Then you have nothing to lose! Come over here, dear Nimroel. I'll pick out the target." Placing two hands on the girl's shoulders he steered the half-breed until she stood next to Kili. He felt his skin prickle uncomfortable at her nearness and he groaned inwardly. _I do not want to be around her brother! Surely you can see this?_ But Fili was enjoying himself too much and had already picked out the first target. Pointing to a sapling off in the distance he grinned at the pair of them.

"That will be your first target. The rules are first person to be farthest from a target three times in a row loses. Kili you're first." The young prince eyed his brother for a moment, trying to determine what he was trying to get out of this, but it appeared to Kili that Fili was just excited for some competition.

Stepping up Kili drew an arrow and notched his bow. He drew it back, exhaled, and released in one fluid motion. His arrow flew straight and true, landing about one and a half paces from the sapling.

"Good shot brother!" Fili called out. "You're next Nimroel." Kili was shocked to hear that all of Fili's usual menace when talking to Nimroel was gone. To his left Kili saw Nimroel take a halting step and draw an arrow. _Her arm is shaking. She's not going to be able to shoot she's so afraid_. She lifted the bow to her face and after a long moment let go. The arrow cut through the air with a whiz and struck the ground with a thud, inches from the base of the tree.

Kili felt his mouth fall open again in shock. She had managed to not only beat him but conquer all her emotions of fear and nervousness and make an amazing shot.

"It's just her elf blood," Fili said encouragingly but Kili just shook his head.

Their next target was a rock over the hill and after that a large tuft of wild onions. They shot for hours with neither of them ever losing three in a row. As time passed Kili felt himself grow more and more incredulous at Nimroel's skill. She never spoke a word and often sent Fili begging looks as if to say _please let me leave_. Kili won the winner take all round just after sunset when it became too dark to shoot, but he did feel accomplished for it. Nimroel had certainly beaten him in half of the matches if not more. She was the best archer he had ever met.

When Fili finally called an end Nimroel immediately rushed off and picked up her long forgotten rabbit. Kili watched her run off and before he knew what he was doing he followed her. _Heavens, she moves fast_ Kili thought as he broke into a jog so he might catch up with her. When at last he was steps behind her he reached out with a hand and placed it on her shoulder and turned her around. Ignoring the way she tensed under his touch he spoke, not stopping to think about what he was saying.

"Nim? Where are you going? You just shot incredibly well, you don't have to run off cause you lost." Nimroel stared at him blankly. Suddenly Kili was aware of how close he was standing to her and his hand on her shoulder. _Did I call her Nim?_ Dazed with shock and disgust at his own actions Kili quickly dropped his hand from her shoulder and backed away. All the while the young girl stared at him, her golden eyes a mix of curiosity and fear.

"I must prepare my dinner, master dwarf. I did not mean to offend you," she said, holding up her rabbit. Nodding dumbly, Kili stared at the ground. _What had he been thinking? _But that was it, he hadn't been thinking. He had run after her without stopping to consider his actions. He was consorting with the _enemy_. Shame burned at his face and he took another step backwards for good measure. _What would Thorin think? _He had _touched_ it.

Nimroel, who had been watching him in his internal struggled gave him a small bow and turned to leave when Fili came running over the hill, a wild look in his blue eyes.

"What's the matter?" Kili demanded, seeing the look in his brother's eyes.

"We're supposed to be looking out for the ponies, only we've encountered a slight problem," Fili replied uneasily, shifting his weight from side to side. "We had sixteen and now there's fourteen." Kili let out a moan of frustration.

"Must have disappeared when we were shooting. Which horses?"

"Daisy and Bungo are missing."

**CLIFHANGER hahahaha. Sorry bout it. Anyways thanks for reading and I hope you liked it. Update within the next week I hope, probably the weekend but I make no promises. Thanks lovies! PLEASE EXCUSE ALL MY GRAMMER/SPELLING I WROTE AND THEM UPLOADED RIGHT AWAY SO YOU WOULD GET THIS CHAPTER SOONER**


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